


Holy Grievances

by HannibalLecter



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cannibalism, Christianity, F/M, Gen, Murder, dark!Hannibloom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:57:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1497478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannibalLecter/pseuds/HannibalLecter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.<br/>And the earth was waste and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep."<br/>Such darkness becomes familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holy Grievances

**Author's Note:**

> This is likely the introduction to a little something bigger in the future.

 

He attends an Easter celebration in a Cathedral as exquisite and imposing as himself. Cream blazer buttoned to its thirds, hair slicked back, no detail out of place, he blends seamlessly into the crowd, her arm in his. _A beautiful couple_. They say. She has the modesty to blush.

The ceremony passes with little disruption. “The Body of Christ” they say, and he smiles. ”The Blood of Christ” they offer, and he takes. It is not until later that they find an altar server, little more than twenty-four, strung up above the tabernacle, the glorious light of heaven shining on his mutilated corpse through stained-glass windows. The cream suit coat remains unblemished. The dark loafers do nothing to hide the blood they trail.  
  


His jacket is shed in the foyer and he kisses her dress halfway down before pulling her legs to lock around his hips. He carries her up the stairs, the same gentle hands on her ribs that had delicately parted viscera not two hours prior. He thinks she might find correlation between their meal and the evening’s transgressions: Veal Parmigiana and the missing meat of a thigh. The thought is lost as her mouth latches onto a spot just beneath his ear. He groans into the dying light of the evening and decides it hardly matters. If she knows, the hands gripping his hair must find a comfort in the notion.

The darkness that licks at the corners of her vision has long since been imperceptible. She knows of its depth and its capacity. And still she remains in his bed, in his arms, a new, wry twist to her lips. The blood on their hands is shared, their fingers interlocked. The moon rises on the night and their flesh is outlined like marble against cotton sheets that scratch ever so slightly. The gruesome display in the cathedral is lesser without the multicolored vibrancy of the church windows.  
  


And Christ is yet risen.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Easter.  
> And by that I mean what the fuck is wrong with me.


End file.
